Resurgence
by Trishala Vardhan
Summary: Red John has taken away everything-and Cielle Russo will do anything to get her revenge, even if she has to cross paths with the infamous Patrick Jane himself. Cielle has too many secrets-and they're about to come out.
1. The New Girl

**Disclaimer- I do not own The Mentalist or any of it's characters.**

**Yes, I know, bit of a deviation from tradition, isn't it?**

**I've always been, and always will be, a Supernatural geek, but I love The Mentalist just as much.**

**(Let's not bring Castiel and Jane together in the same sentence.)**

**So, the story follows Cielle Russo, the newest addition to our favorite unit in CBI.**

**(Yes, yes, I know, I have a thing for OFC's.)**

**And, yeah, if you see similarities between Odette Slessor ( my OC from a different fandom) and Cielle Russo, know that it's meant to be there.**

**I love Odette so much I'm using her as a cast for Cielle.**

**Yep, this is Kimball Cho with the opening chapter.**

**Cielle will get hers in the next one.**

**So, on with it, and reviews are love!**

CHAPTER ONE- THE NEW GIRL

Jane just helped Mrs. Tolliver to shoot her husband.

Well, not directly, but he certainly pushed her into it.

The boss is fuming.

Van Pelt, the newbie of two weeks, watches cautiously from behind her computer.

Rigsby divides his time between stuffing his face with chips and eyeing the admittedly pretty new agent.

I sigh.

It's going to be a long day.

"That's it!" The boss slams her hands down on the table.

"I can't deal with you!" She yells at Jane, flipping her short brown hair away from her face.

Jane only looks politely interested.

But even his expression changes when the boss breaks the news.

"We're getting a new member for our unit-for Jane."

Predictably, Jane looks unhealthily delighted.

"Really? For me? How thoughtful of you, Lisbon."

The boss looks like she might start breathing fire.

"I'm washing my hands of you. You'll be her headache now. She'll work with you at all times."

"Her?" Jane pricks his ears. "So it's a woman."

"Yes. She'll be in charge of you-and all your messes."

Jane feigns being aggrieved.

"Lisbon, you wound me."

"Shut up," The boss snaps back. "She'll be here in fifteen."

She glares at the rest of us.

"Be nice," The boss threatens. "Or else."

We hastily concur.

The boss stomps off, leaving us to our own devices.

Van Pelt looks excited- she's pleased.

She won't be the rookie anymore.

Rigsby seems interested, too.

I am ambivalent- but it will be good to have fresh eyes on our cases.

Jane himself, the reason for this agent's arrival, looks quite happy.

He doesn't seem to realize he's just gotten himself a babysitter.

I mention this, and Rigsby snickers.

Jane looks slightly miffed.

"What do you think she's gonna be like?" Van Pelt chirps.

"Dunno," Comes Rigsby's muffled reply.

"Don't care," I say blankly.

"Dumpy little woman with corns on her feet and facial hair," Jane offers.

Rigsby hoots with laughter.

Van Pelt wrinkles her nose in disgust.

We look up at the sharp _clack-clack_ of shoes on tile.

My first thought is that she must be a relative of some person in CBI custody.

She is very young.

Too young.

But the next words she says throws that out of the window.

"Which one of you is Mr. Jane?"

Rigsby's chips fall out of his mouth.

"Jane, you are a lucky, lucky man," He hisses.

From an aesthetic point of view, I suppose he is.

The girl-there's really no other word for her, is beautiful.

She has wavy, glossy black hair down to her waist, soft green eyes and eyelashes like feather dusters.

She's petite but slender, pale skinned with rose-red lips, with slim fingers and a straight, angular nose.

Her cheekbones are high- naturally flushed with a wildrose hue.

Her long legs are sheathed in skinny jeans, coupled with a black vest that hugs her shapely torso and a leather jacket and ankle boots.

Flawless.

She's probably the most exquisitely beautiful person I've ever seen, but she doesn't do much for me.

Jane watches her fixedly.

Rigsby, surprisingly, feels the same way.

He's too busy looking at Van Pelt.

"That would be me," Jane gets to his feet.

The girl holds out her thin, black-nailed hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jane. I'm Cielle Russo."

Jane shakes her hand briefly.

I notice he doesn't look as smug as before.

"Likewise."

Van Pelt comes up behind her.

"Hi!" She says brightly. "I'm Agent Grace Van Pelt. You must be the new girl."

"That's me," Cielle smiles slightly. "Nice to meet you."

"Wayne Rigsby," He comes around the corner. "Welcome to CBI."

"Thank you," She shakes his hand.

I get to my feet.

"Kimball Cho," I extend my hand. "Welcome to the unit."

Her grip is cool and surprisingly firm.

And that's when I notice she already has a gun.

It's one of the best- a Glock 17.

Russo notices the direction of my gaze.

"Relax," She smiles. "I have a permit and license both."

The boss comes in again, and I can see she is surprised by Russo's age.

"You must be Agent Lisbon," Russo holds out her hand.

"Welcome to CBI," The boss echoes Rigsby.

She personally picks out a desk for Russo-but that might be because it's right next to the one that's Jane's.

The boss shoots him a look that's positively livid.

"Jane, Russo will start her duties from Monday. You're hereby suspended for a week for lack of conduct."

I sigh again as Jane objects.

It really is going to be a long day.


	2. Risen

**Disclaimer- I do not own The Mentalist or any of it's characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**Yep, this is Cielle Russo's first chapter!**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER TWO- RISEN

"Don't mess this up," I mutter to myself.

One chance.

I have one chance to get what I want-and I'll do anything for it.

Red John has murdered my family.

And I want my revenge.

And if that means I have to work with, and be in charge of, the infamous Patrick Jane, so be it.

Patrick Jane.

I'm not the only one whose life has been ripped away.

His wife and child have been murdered by Red John, too.

I enter the wide workspace.

Four different agents stare at me, and my voice sticks in my throat.

"Which one of you is Mr. Jane?"

The tall one with short-cropped hair chokes slightly on his chips.

He mutters something indistinct.

I can feel them appraising me, and hold my ground.

"That would be me," The man reclining on the sofa gets to his feet.

I give him a quick once-over.

Curly blond hair, reasonably tall, with light green eyes, wearing a dark three-piece suit.

He's very handsome-and I don't know why that surprises me.

I suppose I expected him to be scarier.

I extend my hand.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jane. I'm Cielle Russo."

My hand is lost in his grip.

"Likewise," Jane shakes my hand briefly.

I can feel him watching me-and his eyes are intense, boring into mine.

No one has been exaggerating.

I conceal my twitch of discomfort-what does he see in me?

Does he know what I'm hiding?

Does he know why I'm here?

The other three introduce themselves.

The pretty red-head is Agent Grace Van Pelt.

The tall man, Wayne Rigsby.

Kimball Cho is the blank-faced man who immediately notices my gun.

I set him at ease.

"Relax," I say. "I have a permit and license both."

I suppose he's right to notice-I'm no more an agent than Jane is.

I'm only here to make sure he doesn't cause too much trouble.

But Jane doesn't seem the sort to let himself be controlled.

My own hidden agenda, of course, is another matter.

A slim woman with short brown hair comes into the room.

It can only be one person.

"You must be Agent Lisbon," I put forth my hand.

Her grip is cool and firm.

"Welcome to CBI."

I do not express my gratitude- this is the CBI's best unit, and what's more, it's the one in charge of the Red John case.

I sit at my new desk.

Lisbon gives Jane a decidedly unfriendly look.

"Jane, Russo will start her duties next Monday. You're hereby suspended for a week for lack of conduct."

I absent-mindedly wonder what he's done this time.

~The Mentalist~

My first week in CBI, and there's already been a case for Red John.

Jane, of course, isn't here.

But perhaps I spoke too soon.

A taxi pulls up, and Jane jumps out, resplendent in another one of his three-piece suits.

"Morning, everybody," He greets us cheerily. "How was your flight?"

"Go away," Lisbon says abruptly. "You're on suspension."

Jane simply pays the cab driver.

Lisbon rounds on us.

"Which one of you jackasses told him? It was you, wasn't it, Cho?"

"Yes, it was," Cho says expressionlessly, as is his norm.

"Of course he called me," Jane says incredulously.

"It's Red John. You can't keep me out of this. Why would you want to?"

"You got a man killed," Lisbon replies. "There's consequences."

"A man that raped and murdered his daughter," Jane retorts.

"You didn't know that," Lisbon fires back. "You did not know that. If she hadn't left a diary..."

"But she did," Jane counters. "Be reasonable. This is my case."

"Your case," Lisbon repeats quietly.

"Red John is mine," Jane insists.

_I might have to fight you for that claim_.

Jane swings his head around to me, as if he's read my mind.

Knowing him, he probably has.

Lisbon distracts the both of us.

"I'm sorry, but rules are rules. Come back next week."

"Don't let this man past," She tells the security guard.

I shoot Jane a sympathetic look as we hurry inside.

Lisbon's phone rings.

"Hello? Boss..."

~The Mentalist~

I stand inside the morgue with the other three.

I stare steadily at the dead body-this isn't my first.

The M.E starts his report.

"We have Gregory Tannen, Caucasian, male, forty-three, single. We haven't opened him up yet, but burn marks..."

Jane slips in and stands next to me.

"Sorry I went over your head," He hisses to Lisbon.

"I'll redeem myself, I promise."

"If you want redemption, be silent," Lisbon snaps back.

"Okay," Jane nods. "I can really do that."

"Shh," Lisbon whispers.

She apologizes to the M.E.

"But burn marks here indicate that the victims were subdued with a stun gun, standard civilian model by the look of it. Death appears to be caused by several blows to the back of the skull, consistent with a bloodied golf club found at the scene. The female is Alison Randolph, twenty-seven, married, no children. They were found at her listed residence. Time of death looks to be early Saturday evening. On Alison we have the same stun gun marks, followed by binding with tight black plastic ligatures, frenzied cutting, and stabbing assault to the torso and subsequent abuse of the viscera."

"Textbook Red John," Cho notes.

I realize Lisbon, Cho and Rigsby are looking at me, waiting for my reaction.

I recognize it for what it is-they are testing me.

This is my first case, after all.

I steel myself and crouch down, an inch away from the dead man's face.

"Who found the body?" I ask.

I pass the test.

"This one's husband," Cho answers.

"Coming home from the airport Sunday morning with his brother. He's a pro golfer."

"Oh, yeah?" Rigsby raises an eyebrow.

"Price Randolph."

Rigsby shrugs.

The smell of blood and death is strong in my nose as I keep looking.

I try not to think about the last, and only time I've seen a dead body.

I quickly wipe my face of any emotion.

The other three haven't noticed, but I haven't factored in Jane.

I haven't fooled him-not for a second.

~The Mentalist~

I don't like the CSI tech, Brett Partridge.

"Red John enters here. Excuse me. He comes around here, waits for her, expecting her to come in alone. Only thing, her friend Tannen chose the wrong night to come over for a Richard Gere and ice-cream fest. So Red John zaps them both with his trusty gun and...excuse me...grabs a five iron from the bag her and bam! Crushes Tannen's skull. Then takes his sweet time dealing with Alison how he likes. She's a nice, big girl, so unless he's pretty strong, I guess he grabbed her by the arms..."

The words take me far away, back into my own personal dark age.

I'm still not sure whether it's ended or not.

Jane wanders off to where Alison was killed.

I look at the red smiley on the wall.

"There she blows," Partridge continues.

"The classic Red John smiley face. Drawn in the victim's blood clockwise with three fingers of his right hand wearing a rubber kitchen glove. I'm stoked to finally see one in the flesh."

Jane's eyes unfocus.

"This isn't Red John," He says.

"Ri-i-ight," Patridge drawls.

"Red John thinks of himself as a showman, an artist. He has a strong sense of theater. In all of the previous killings, he made sure that the first thing that anyone sees is the face on the wall. You see the face first and know. You know what's happened and you feel dread. Then, and only then, do you see the body of the victim. Always in that order. Here it's the opposite. The first thing you see is the body and you have to look around to see the face on the wall. It doesn't play nearly as well, does it?"

He's right.

Lisbon chews her lip.

"Depends on your taste, I suppose."

"No, he's right," I say quietly.

"It's a game to him," I continue.

"He nurtures it-it's like an art to him, murder. He savors your fear-makes sure you know what's waiting for you even before you see it."

Jane's eyes hold me under intense scrutiny.

He's watching, analyzing.

Re-evaluating.

"Wow," Patridge scoffs. "Interesting."

"You know what your problem is, my friend?" Jane finally says.

"You enjoy your work a little too much. You're a ghoul. If you don't get all excited reading Fangoria, I'm Britney Spears."

Partridge squawks like the bird he is named after.

"I resent that!"

The words are out before I can stop them.

"This is you trying to redeem yourself, is it?"

Jane flashes a perfect set of white teeth in a mischievous smile.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't look the least bit apologetic.

"He irks me. He's irksome. You don't need me here."

Jane leaves the room.

"Walk with me," Lisbon says, as the rest of the people leave.

"I know Jane can be annoying," Lisbon adds. "And I know it's gonna be trouble for you to manage him. But he's the best at what he does-just make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble."

"Someone has to," I remark. "Besides, I like him."

And, to my surprise, I find that I do.

~The Mentalist~

Van Pelt is still unpacking.

The five of us are running through crime scene footage of Red John's other kills.

I silently wish that they don't show up.

I don't think I could keep up the pretense if they did.

"Jane's right," I say, staring at the screen. "We do have a copycat."

"Or we have Red John trying new things," Lisbon replies.

"Or we have Red John making a mistake."

"Red John doesn't make mistakes," I respond steadily.

At least, not until now.

"She's right."

Jane silently enters the room.

Lisbon waves a hand at Rigsby and Cho.

"Go talk to the husband."

She points at me.

"You research on Dr. Wagner- Alison's psychiatrist."

"Will do, boss," Rigsby and I say at the same time.

We leave the room.

Over my shoulder I can hear Jane.

"Very pleasant addition to the Serious Crimes family," He says.

A brief smile passes over my face.

~The Mentalist~

Jane and I are in Dr. Wagner's office.

The boss is supremely happy-she doesn't have to be in the field with Jane anymore.

Dr. Wagner is looking up records on his computer.

Jane prowls around the office.

It's filled with African decor.

"We're a full service private practice," Wagner explains.

"We deliver primary care, cosmetic surgery, psychotherapy, sports medicine, you name it."

"What's the African connection?" Jane asks.

"It's what this place is all about," Wagner taps away at his computer.

"Half of our profits go to build and staff basic health clinics in poor African communities. Well, here we are."

He brings out a file.

"Alison was a healthy young woman-it's a thin file."

"Psychiatric history?" I wait expectantly.

"She didn't have one."

"STD's?" I push. "Abortions? Unexplained injuries?"

"No," Wagner shakes his head.

"Aside from the routine check-ups with me, it's all Dr. Tannen. All aesthetic work."

Jane comes up next to me.

"Did Tannen keep a diary? Our last case was solved because the victim kept a diary."

"A diary?" Wagner raises an eyebrow. "I don't think so."

I cough slightly.

"Getting back to Alison Randolph. How was her marriage, do you think? Happy? Unhappy?"

Wagner hesitates.

"About six months ago, Dr. Tannen asked my advice. Alison had asked him to get her a year's supply of birth control pills off the books, which is strictly against AMA code. I said sure, do it. I mean, better us than some Tijuana drugstore."

"Why the secrecy?"

Wagner pauses.

"Price Randolph had a vasectomy. April of '02."

Jane chuckles.

"If there's anything else I can do..."

"We appreciate that," I tell Wagner.

"Actually, there is," Jane cuts in.

"I'm out of sleeping pills. Can you fix me up? Anything strong will do."

I glance at him confusedly.

"Sure," Wagner agrees easily.

"Come in for a consultation. We'll squeeze you in this afternoon."

"Oh," Jane rocks back on his heels.

"No. I was hoping to get something now. Trying to avoid the chit chat."

"I'm sorry, I wouldn't be comfortable prescribing without some sort of chit chat."

"I understand," Jane nods. "No problem. I'll call you, maybe."

~The Mentalist~

I pick at my food-I'm not supposed to be eating this much, anyway.

The seafood restaurant is peaceful and quiet.

"I like the husband for it," Cho says.

"He hires some hooker he knows to create an alibi, flies home, fillets the spouse, flies back again. It's a classic elaborate and clever, but ultimately stupid, plan."

"Have you looked at his PGA tournament record?" Jane asks.

"Not bad," Cho replies. "Six mill career earnings."

"For coming in second and third," Jane adds.

"You put him on the eighteenth tee with a big win on the line, like night follows day, he'll shank it. He's a choker. He doesn't have the nerve to kill his wife. Didn't do it."

I cock an eyebrow.

"Are you suggesting we drop a prime suspect because he's never won a major?"

"Oh, no, no, no," Jane waves a hand. "I'm just making idle conversation."

Jane makes a straw follow his finger, rolling it across the table.

"How'd you do that?" I demand.

"Telekinesis," Jane quips.

"He blew on it," Cho deadpans.

"That is another way to do it," Jane admits.

"Mr. Jane," Van Pelt looks up at him.

"I have a question regarding your previous career path."

Jane folds his hands behind his head.

"Fire away."

"When you met with other psychics, real psychics, could they tell you were just pretending?"

Jane's lips twitch.

"There's no such things as real psychics."

"I beg to differ," Van Pelt responds tartly. "My cousin Yolanda is a psychic."

"Your cousin is deluded or dishonest or both," Jane replies.

"Hey, steady," Rigsby instantly jumps to Van Pelt's defense.

"No, no," Van Pelt shakes her head.

"He's entitled to his opinion. He's wrong, though. She has power. She can communicate with the other side. I've seen her do it myself."

"She let you speak with someone that's gone," Jane says.

"Yes."

"Someone that you love and still miss very much."

"Yes."

"You wanted her power to be real," Jane says simply. "So it was."

"No," Van Pelt insists.

"You're so sure you're right," Rigsby chips in.

"Science don't know everything."

"Five hundred years ago, radio would have seemed like magic."

"Exactly," Rigsby supports Van Pelt.

"Five hundred years in the future," She continues.

"It could be totally normal to communicate with the dead."

"The other side?" Jane smiles indulgently.

"Your father's a football coach, yeah?"

"How did you know that?"

Jane shrugs.

"It's obvious from your whole demeanor. My point is, didn't dad always say life is like football? When that final whistle blows, the game is over, done. There is no more. There is no other side. This is it. Lobster and bread rolls and nautical kitsch and then psssh. Nothingness."

Van Pelt eyes him with pity.

"You poor sad man. The kingdom of God is a real place."

"Okay," Jane turns to me. "What do you think?"

I put down my fork.

"I don't believe in a god," I say bluntly. "When you die, you die alone. There's no afterlife, no just reward. There's nothing after death."

Nothing but pain and shame and misery.

"And if there ever really is a god," I stab my lobster viciously.

"I've lost all respect for him."

~The Mentalist~

Jane lags behind as the rest file out.

"Russo."

"Jane."

His eyes probe mine.

I wonder if he's found what he's looking for.

"What are you keeping from me?" Jane finally breaks the silence.

Guess so.

"Nothing," I say quickly.

"Please," Jane searches my face.

"This isn't the real reason you joined this unit. Not to be a glorified babysitter. No, you want something, very, very badly. What are you hiding?"

So there it is.

"You're even better than advertised," I say quietly.

He says nothing, watching me.

Waiting.

So I decide to tell him.

He probably knows anyway.

"I want Red John," I murmur.

"I want him dead. He killed my brother and boyfriend, and I will kill him, even if it's the last thing I do."

Whatever Jane was expecting, this wasn't it.

He blinks.

"I'm...sorry," Jane says haltingly.

He seems genuine, if a bit awkward.

But with Jane, you can never tell.

I've learnt that even in one short week.

"I'm sorry, too," I reply. "About your wife and daughter."

Jane's face is carefully closed off.

"How odd," He says. "You actually mean it."

"Why shouldn't I?" I retort.

This is something neither of us wants to talk about.

"I guess I'm going to have to fight you for Red John," I add.

Jane's eyes gleam green.

"When the time comes, I'll flip you for it," Jane promises.

It's a fair deal.

"Sounds like a plan," I say.


	3. The Copycat

**Disclaimer- I do not own The Mentalist or any of it's characters.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed!**

**On with it, shall we?**

CHAPTER THREE- THE COPYCAT

Somebody sent Jane a letter-somebody who claims to be Red John.

Van Pelt reads it out.

" 'Greetings, old friend. It's been a while. I hope you are keeping well. I am thriving and happy. I have eleven wives now and will soon begin courting number twelve. Why can't you catch me? You must feel so powerless and stupid and sad. Oh, well.' "

"All the best, Red John."

Van Pelt pauses, and her eyes flicker over to me.

" 'P.S," She continues. "Tell Cielle I said hi-I've had such fun at her expense.' "

Four pairs of eyes flash over to me.

"That sounds like the real deal to me," Cho remarks.

"Sounds like Red John," Jane agrees. "It's not. Red John wouldn't risk capture just to taunt me..."

He looks at me.

"Us," Jane amends.

"So the real killer is trying to throw us off track?" Rigsby guesses.

"Cho," Lisbon picks up the letter. "Find out where Price Randolph was half an hour ago. Rigsby, I want you to check the hotel security camera."

She turns to Van Pelt.

"Get those over to forensics."

As we move our way out, I can't stop myself from asking Jane: "You okay?"

Jane keeps sitting at his desk.

"Absolutely. Are you?"

He raises an eyebrow.

"Well enough," I answer. "Get some sleep."

~The Mentalist~

When I see Jane again, he's still sitting at his desk, ignoring the ringing phone.

Rigsby picks it up.

"Hello."

"Morning," Jane greets us.

"You didn't sleep, did you?" I shake my head and get on my phone.

"Hi, I'd like to make an appointment with Dr. Wagner, please. It's urgent. Jane. Patrick Jane. Yeah, I'll hold."

Rigsby sets the phone down.

"Forensics maybe got a break. The blood clot in the envelope is Alison Randolph's, but they found a hair in there. Doesn't belong to her or Tannen. Guess who it does belong to?"

...

Cho is interrogating Tag Randolph.

A magnified hair is on the laptop in front of Tag.

The rest of us watch outside.

"It's yours, Tag," Cho says blankly. "Amazing, huh? Science."

"This is insane," Tag stammers. "I didn't... I didn't kill Alison."

"How do you explain your hair in the envelope?"

Tag swallows nervously.

"Either it's a mistake, or...or I'm being framed."

Cho folds his arms.

"Who would want to frame you? We don't want to, if that's what you're thinking."

"He and Alison were in a relationship," Jane states next to me.

"Who would want to frame you, Tag?" Cho asks.

"My brother."

"Why would he want to do that?"

"Alison and I were in a relationship."

My mouth pops open.

"I think you are psychic," Van Pelt looks at Jane.

"You're just afraid to admit it."

"Hmm," Jane mumbles noncommittally.

~The Mentalist~

Jane has left for Dr. Wagner's office-I cannot fathom why.

I tap my nails impatiently against the table in the sheriff's office.

Price Randolph and a lawyer come in.

"Mr. Randolph," Cho gets to his feet. "Good-"

"Cut the crap," Price barks.

"My brother's done nothing. You scumbags haven't got the stones to come after me, so you go after my family. That is flat-out persecution."

"Price," The lawyer says placatingly. "What did we agree?"

"Mr. Randolph, rest assured there's no intent to persecute you," Cho says coolly.

"We scumbags are holding your brother because we have physical evidence linking him to the crime, and potential motive in that he states whenever you weren't around, he was banging your wife like a big bass drum," Cho points out bluntly.

Price laughs.

"Tag and Alison?"

"That's what he states," I decide to help Cho out.

"He further states it was you that killed Alison, and now you're trying to frame him in revenge."

Rigsby brings Tag in, and Price pounces at his brother.

"Bastard!"

Van Pelt and Cho restrain him.

I quickly take Tag out another door, who's also struggling.

"Son of a bitch!" Tag yells.

"You treated her like trash! What did you expect?"

"I didn't expect my little brother to bang my wife, you little punk bastard!" Price roars back.

I sigh.

~The Mentalist~

When Rigsby and I went to pick Jane up from his session with Wagner, we didn't expect to see him running down the stairs.

"You're late!" Jane yells at us.

"What?" Rigsby blinks.

"Draw your weapon!" Jane shouts.

"Huh?"

Wagner comes running out, gun in hand.

Rigsby whips out his own.

I'd do the same, but I don't have the authority, since I'm not an agent.

"Drop the gun!" Rigsby orders.

"Hands on your head! Get down on your knees! Down!"

Wagner is forced to comply as Rigsby arrests him.

Jane grins.

~The Mentalist~

Tannen was going to ruin Dr. Wagner and his practice.

So Wagner decided to kill him and Alison both.

Of course, it would have been nice if Jane had clued us in to this important fact earlier.

I purse my lips together, packing up my stuff.

Jane comes in carrying a small box.

"Case-closed donuts are here."

We ignore him.

Jane holds up his hands.

"I just went to get sleeping pills, I swear to God. I didn't even want to go. You know I didn't want to go."

"Right," Van Pelt rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, you didn't set Wagner up," Rigsby scowls.

"Didn't figure it was him days ago," Lisbon adds, glaring at him.

"You didn't let us tear apart the victim's family simply to satisfy your childish need for drama," Cho narrows his eyes.

"Eh," Jane waves a hand.

"That family was screwed, anyway. Don't blame yourselves, guys."

"Don't even start," I snap. "I'm still angry."

So much for redemption.

"I'm sorry," Jane says.

"No you're not," I reply.

Because he isn't.

Jane sets a perfectly made origami frog on my desk.

I stare at it dubiously.

"A frog?" I cock an eyebrow.

"Well, this makes everything better, doesn't it?"

The frog suddenly jumps up on my desk.

Jane grins impishly.

A small smile crosses my face.


End file.
